Home
by RyoseiHime
Summary: A series of small oneshots connected by the theme of "home."
1. Welcome Home Sister

A key jingled in the darkness of a dusty room. The accompaniment of a creak set the scene for Sister's return home. She had seen Dexter off hours ago. She hadn't really felt much of anything about her brother being drafted until he had actually disappeared into outer space. She had stood beneath the reddened sky, feeling lost without him. She didn't even know how she would make it home. And it finally sunk in when the sunlight faded.

She was alone.

The light flickered on as a purse dropped into the corner and a set of big brown eyes gazed around absently. Sister felt like she was a stranger here. She recognized every last detail, but something was missing. The over-sized blue couch in the middle of the room where Dexter was so often found glared at her. The tiny kitchen that was barely separated from the rest of the living space was silent and filthy. A big yellow shirt still hung off the TV antenna.

Sister took small, robotic steps towards the center of her brother's attention, took his shirt in hand, and tugged softly. But it was stuck. She jerked. The antenna hit the floor beside her feet and the shirt hung limply from her long fingernails. She dropped it.

Sister didn't know what to do. Dexter wasn't here to tell her. Should she stay home? Should he go party? She wanted to go party. But she wanted to be alone. Dexter would know which was best for her. Dexter always knew what was best. Even if she got angry and fought with him about it sometimes, Dexter had never let anything bad happen to her. Who would keep bad things from happening now?

She picked the shirt up again and shuffled over to the couch. Dexter had practically left an imprint on his side. She sat down in it very softly and gathered the shirt into her arms. She wrapped her arms around herself, pressing the shirt into her chest. It was almost like having Grif hug her. She stared deep into the blackness of the TV screen as if she could find Grif's big, comforting smile if she looked hard enough.


	2. Lullaby For Theta

Theta floated in the darkness his home became when North slept, curled around his skateboard. His grip on it tightened as he heard rumbling in the distance. The rumbling became the thunder of armored feet and the crack of a gun. His whole world shook and Theta could feel excruciating pain echoing all around him. He jerked with a yelp.

"North!"

Theta's home filled with the light of North's thoughts. Each shone through the dark like a pin prick. Theta found himself searching the man's vitals immediately. He wasn't injured. Good. North sat up, put a hand to his neck, and smiled wearily. His voice was tempered with patience when he spoke.

"What's wrong, Theta?"

"I heard explosions."

Theta's voice was small and distant. Theta was lingering in his sleep mode - only partially online. York didn't understand why North let the AI disturb his sleep that way. He never let York know that sometimes it went the other way around. He threw his legs over the side of the bed and stretched.

"It was a dream, Theta. Don't be scared."

"A dream?" Theta asked, projecting himself onto North's knee. "It was so scary."

"I agree," North replied with a chuckle. "I'm sorry it woke you."

"It's okay."

Theta shuffled his feet a little and looked up into North's face.

"North?"

"Yeah, Theta?"

"Can we take another walk?"

"Sure. I think I could use one myself."

Theta shifted to North's shoulder as he stood. They strolled the halls of the Mother of Invention for some time before North arrived at a viewing window. They were often here at this time of night. The walk there was usually long enough to lull Theta, and North enjoyed the view. The two gazed out into space silently for a while. The dream seemed far behind them already. Theta glanced at North's face to find the soldier smiling. He faded from North's shoulder and returned to his mind.

"Goodnight, Theta."

North's mind was filled with a soothing warmth now. He buried himself in that warmth and waves of memories washed over him as he entered sleep mode again. Even when North slept himself, Theta could feel him there. He never had to be alone, and Theta would do anything to pay North back for that. He worked hard to make himself useful. He couldn't be more grateful to call North home.


	3. Home Is Where The Pain Is

Donut rocked softly, the creak of the rocking chair against the old porch somewhat soothing. He stared down at the hands in his lap instead of out into the beautiful blue sky. He completely disregarded the rolling clouds, a sight that once took his breath away. He smiled, but his eyes were vacant. The screen door slammed beside him. Donut's eyes came back into focus, but he didn't look up. His father's work boots came into view. Donut heard the strike of a lighter and the smell of smoke filled the air. He hated that smell. His fingers gripped each other like life jackets.

"Dinner'll be ready soon," the gruff voice spat.

"I'm not hungry," Donut replied.

"Don't make your mom worry, Franklin."

_"You don't care about your parents! Look what you're doing to them! How do you think they feel? They're blaming themselves right now for your unnatural urges! Is that what you want?"_

Donut could almost feel the spit on his face, flying from the rabid lips of his counselor. He could feel the heat of his breath, the pressure of his fingers on his arm as he jerked him around. He nodded his head at his father and smiled harder, almost desperately, as he looked up.

"Yes sir."

His father stared back at him dully. Donut couldn't read anything in his face, but the man had never been very expressive. He gave a grunt of acknowledgment and turned back to the house. Once the door slammed shut again, Donut dropped his head. He could feel the weight of every word shouted at him fall down on his shoulders. One after the other, they showered down around him. _Faggot, freak, disgraceful, disgusting, impure, sinful, evil, sissy, gay, gay, gay!_ It had been a curse word in that place. It was something they shouted at him when he'd done wrong. It was something they yelled into his face when he didn't want to learn about cars or talked about interior design or made just the wrong motion with his hand.

But that was over now. Because he was better.

He was normal.


End file.
